The Cleanup Continues
by Soldier Boy
Summary: Frank Castle continues to take our the trash.
1. Goldy Studios

I gathered my gear as I prepared for my next kill. Tonight I'm taking down some more scum, a remnant of the Gnuici empire. One of them figured it would be profitable to start a child porn studio, they were about to learn how wrong they were. I sort through my arsenal, picking the proper equipment for the job, two Kabar knifes, two silenced .45 pistols an M-4 rifle and flash-bang grenades. Normally I'd take frags, but their might still be civilians in the building. I loaded up on ammo and C-4 before I got into my car. Goldy Studios was across town from me, a good thirty minute drive. There was a guard at the gate to the parking area. He stopped me. I rolled down the window and shot him in the face with the .45 as I rammed the gate. His face caved in on itself as he fell to the ground, his brains almost blending with the gray paint behind him, except for the blood. The flimsy chain-link gate gave way easily under the overwhelming horsepower behind by reinforced grill. Well, I'd made my entrance. Two thugs ran from the door as I stepped out of my car. I cut the first one in half with a burst, the second one tripped over the the legs of the first and fell, his pistol spinning out of his hand. I grabbed him by the collar and forced him against the brick wall.  
"You're gonna tell me what I wanna know"  
The hired gun just spit on me. I unsheathed one of my knives and started sticking it slowly deeper into the side of his neck until the thug had a change of heart.  
"Where are the girls?" I asked, now retracting the knife even a fraction of an inch.  
"They-they're on the second floor, in the back, past the studio! That's all I know! I swear"  
"Thank you." I told him as I jerked the knife, decapitating him.  
I walked in the door and grabbed the first guy I saw for a shield. Another dirtbag jumped from a doorway and sprayed the other guy with rounds, killing him instantly. I double-tapped the shooter with my rifle, the bright red blossoming through his shirt and onto the wall behind him. I dropped the corpse that had shielded me, he was dead weight now. Another two targets emerged from the end of the hall, you'd think they'd know better by now. I hit both of them with a long burst, emptying my magazine. I reloaded my rifle as I listened for anymore sounds on this floor. Nothing. I rigged some C-4 on a remote detonator to a major load-bearing pillar as I made my way to the stairs. I was half-way up then a thug stuck the barrel of a 12-gauge around the doorway at the top and fired. I barely dodged in time, the load of buckshot tearing into the wall over me. I fired an entire magazine at the wall, the 5.56mm M-855 rounds tore through the sheetrock like it wasn't even there. I noted with satisfaction the blood beginning to flow down the stairs as I reloaded again and finished the stairs. I grabbed the last guy up there and threw him though the window. Now, where's the director? I entered the first room. slinging my rifle and drawing a pistol.  
"Where are you"  
The coward was undr the bed. I grabbed him and pulled him out. I used a pair of handcuffs that were lying around to bind him to the bed.  
"Is there anything you would like to tell me?" I asked him as I stuck the end of the silenced inder his chin.  
"The-the girls! They're in the back"  
"Already knew that." I said as I shot him in the crotch.  
"THE COMBINATION! AHH! IT'S-IT'S 19-4-32! YOU BASTARD"  
"Thank you." I said as I crammed a chunk of C-4 with a micro-detonator into his mouth.  
"You've been very helpful." I told him as I detonated it.  
I walked down the short hallway behind him. I checked the door to my left, it was a library of kiddie-porn DVDs. Sick fucks. Some strategically placed C-4 should take care of these. The last door before the girls was the cleaning room. Wow, apparently they use gasoline to get scuff marks off their hardwood floors. I had one last suprise left then I enter the last room. The girls were crammed, a dozen of them, none older than fifteen, in a chain-link enclosure in one corner of the room. But my suprise came when I stepped in. No sooner had my foot crosseed the threshhold, that something hit me in the back of the head, hard. But I've had worst. I dropped and rolled with the hit, turning and shooting out both of my attackers knees. He was dressed in an expensive suit, a floppy hat complete with feathers, and a cane.  
"Is he your pimp?" I asked the girls as I pointed to him.  
They shook their heads yes.  
"I'm gonna kill ALL of you BITCHES!" he yelled.  
"You won't be doing much of anything soon"  
The door was locked with a simple combination lock. 19-4-what was the last one? Fuck it. I shot the lock off with my pistol.  
"Get out. Now"  
The girls froze.  
"GO!" I yelled, firing a burst into the air with my rifle.  
This time the girls scattered, running for the door. The pimp was trying to crawl away. I grabbed him and threw him against a wall.  
"You wait right there." I told him, putting my knives through the palms of each of his hands to pin them to the wall.  
I went and got the can of gasoline. I retrieved my knives, wiping them off on the breast of his suit.  
"Who you work for?" I asked him as I poured the gasoline all over him, including some down his throat.  
"I-I do-don't work for-for-no...nobody! Bu-but I buy my girls from a guy at the warehouse at dock 17! I-I swear"  
I lit the match and threw it on him. Too bad, it was a nice suit. I left the building and detonated my explosives as I drove away. I had a new lead to follow, but that will be tomorrow night. Right now I'm running low on explosives. 


	2. Pier 17

To bad there's probably the girls on sight, I can't go full out on weapons. First up was my old buddy, the M-4. There's no need for stealth, so I took the .50 Desert Eagle instead of the silenced M-1911. Flash-bangs, C-4, and a kukri went under my trenchcoat. I drove to Pier 17. The two dock workers leaning against a wall in the parking lot smoking didn't look happy to see me. As I stepped out of my car, they started to draw. I was faster. I drew both pistols and fired one round from each. Both dropped. Well, now they know I'm here. Good, now the party can start. I holstered my pistols and readied my rifle just as another target came running through the door, waving a shotgun. He got hit five or six times, it was hard to tell, after the third shot he kinda just disintegrated. A black van careened out of the loading dock just as I crossed through the doorway. I ran back to my car and grabbed the specialized pistol from under my seat. The van was moving way to fast, by the time I'd get my car started and onto the street it would be gone. I took aim with the single-shot pistol and fired. A direct hit. I let them drive away. The homing beacon on their vehicle would allow me to hunt them down at my leisure. I figured by now they'd be waiting for me inside, so a flash-bang went in before I did. About a dozen thugs, all disoriented and blinded were in the first room. I cut them down with the 'Eagles, their blood doing an almost decent job of brightening up the decor. I reloaded my pistols as I noticed one was still alive.  
"M-m-mercy! Please!" he stuttered, blood dripping from his mouth.  
"Ask God next time." I told him as I shot him between the eyes.  
I walked out into the main storage area. Connexes everywhere. I heard talking from the far corner.  
"Don't worry, it'll be quick, girlie. Heh-heh"  
Screaming.  
I get ready to turn the corner. The screaming stops. I'm too late. I turn the corner, rifle up. Two thugs, a punk with a straight-razor, and a thirteen year-old girl with no pants and a Columbian neck-tie. 0.6 seconds and three head-shots later I had moved on. I walk up the stairs to the catwalk and scan the ground floor. Clear. There's movement from the foreman's office. I turn the handle. Locked.  
"Who's there?" he yells.  
"Mary Kay cosmetics." I said as I kicked in the door.  
He stood behind the desk. I hit him with atleast four rounds, but he didn't go down. Body armour, finally a challenge. I back out the door.  
'Too easy.' I thought.  
I armed a flash-bang and rolled it through the doorway, the room flashed and filled with a tremendous noise. I came around the corner, the armoured thug was lying on his ass, dazed to the point of inaction. I calmly walked up and took his rifle from him. I picked him up and hung him several inches of the ground from a sturdy hook attached directly to the building's frame.  
"Where to you get the girls?" I asked him once he was lucid again.  
He just spit on me. I seem to get that reaction alot. I picked-up a smoldering cigarette from an ashtray attached to the wall and stuck it through his eyeball.  
"Sure you don't wanna tell me?" I asked as I reached for another cigarette.  
"Wait, wait! A black van! It-it drops them off! I buy them from him! They pick them up from the street! That's all I know"  
"Thanks." and then I snapped his neck.  
I left the office in time to see a man emerge from a connex, draw a pistol and run for the door. My 5.56 round blew his intestines out his front, causing him to trip over his own guts. I shot him once more to make sure the job was done and walked to the connex. A dozen girls, aged twelve to fifteen, gagged and tied to chairs. I untie them. I turned to tell them to run, but they were already gone. I retrieved a can of white spray paint from my trunk and painted on the front door what had become generally accepted as my calling card. The white skull I wear. Then I broke a window with a brick, setting off the burgular alarm. Tonight's been quick so far, I should be able to refit quick and trail the black van. I think back to the night's body count as I get into my car and turn the key. No matter how many dirtbags I kill, there will always be more. Atleast I can be a deterrent. 


	3. The Black Van

My homing device allowed me to follow them all around the city. I spent most of last night checking over missing child reports, and most of them seem to come from right around the area we're in. The van pulls up in to a side road near a junior high school, minutes before dismissal. I hid my car and watched for almost an hour in the bushes until one girl came by all alone. One of the men stepped out of the van and started talking to her. The other left the vehicle quietly and began circling around behind her. He grabbed her, putting his hand over her mouth. I stepped from the bushes.  
"I don't think that belongs to you"  
The kidnapper with the girl looked up and the other tried to draw his pistol. I threw a knife, the perfectly-balanced weapon imbedding itself up to the hilt in his forehead. The other threw the girl to the side and tried to run. I pulled out my .75 caliber hand cannon and shot him in the knee, blowing his leg off below the joint. I pulled my knife from the forehead of the first criminal as I walked to the second. I turned and realized that the girl was still standing there, watching me.  
"Run along. You don't want to see this." I told her.  
She listened. Good girl. I stood over the dirtbag.  
"Oh, oh GOD"  
"Who do you work for"  
"I wo-work for Mr. Milton"  
"One of Fisk's boys"  
"H-he used to be! He went into business for himself now! He's on a freighter anchored about two miles from the harbor"  
"Any innocent people with him"  
"No"  
"Good." I said as I shot him in the face. His brains didn't splatter as much as they usually do. The high-velocity round three-quarters of an inch wide just went in and out. But it was still more than enough to do the job. I quickly spray-painted my 'logo' on the side of the van facing the road, so everyone who passed would see what happened to people who sink this low and have no doubt as to who would come for them in the night. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find my snorkel. 


	4. The Freighter

No civilians this time, no limitations on weaponry. M-60E3, my hand cannons, frag grenades, two kabars, and, of course, C-4. I'm sure this place'll be well guarded, so I had to come up with a way in. I know a private pilot who owes be a favor. Once the clock hits one-in-the-morning, we take off. I'd already called in some favors with the Coast Guard and knew where the ship was. I jumped out at about ten thousand feet, waiting until the last moment to activate my parachute. I quickly steered in and landed on a stack of connexes. I cut my chute and pulled out by cannons, shooting down the guards around me. I reloaded quickly and readied my M-60 after holstering my cannons. I dropped from the top of the connex, landing on a thug. I stomped down hard on his neck, crushing his trachea and took stock of the terrain. I'd landed close to the bow of the boat, so clearing the deck shouldn't be a difficult achievement. Several criminals streamed from a hatch, and I opened up with the '60. Legs and arms flew through the air as they met the 7.62 wall. This area was clear, so I headed below deck. The stairway opened into a sort of lounge or common area, almost two dozen low-lifes hanging around drinking, playing pool and darts, what-ever else punks do. As soon as I entered the room, they all reached for their weapons. My machine gun roared one, long burst that lasted almost ten seconds. Smoke drifted lazily from the barrel of my weapon as I surveyed the damage. Every one of the crooks lay mutilated and dead in a pool of blood. That's the great thing about a 7.62. It'll mushroom to almost the size of a fifty-cent piece and tumble once it hits you. I'm patching one hole in the fabric of society with another. Kind of ironic, isn't it? I turn to the hallway, and barely manage to dodge the gout of flame shooting from the opening. I armed a grenade, cooked-it, and threw it around the corner. The hallway filled with flying metal, followed by a secondary explosion. Well well, looks like somebody had a flamethrower. Too bad it exploded, I could've put it in my armoury. Never know.  
By now the hallway was filled with smoke and a shallow lake of blood lay on the floor, rippling as I stepped through it, heading for the captain's quarters. I had to make a quick stop along the way to take care of another thug who jumped out in front of me. He caught a .75 round to the face. The bullet pushed the remains of his face through his brain and out the back of his skull, turning his head inside out and throwing it onto the wall behind him.  
Finally I found the captain's quarters. This was it, what I had spent the last three days working towards. John Milton. I kicked open the door. He was sitting behind a nice wood desk. His eyes went wipe as he saw me, and I suddenly smelled urine. I seem to have that effect on people. He pulled a pistol from a drawer and fumbled with the safety, as I crossed the room in three strides. I grabbed his right wrist and twisted, the pistol flying across the room as I snapped his wrist like a celery stick. It made a similar noise too. John was hyperventilating as I lifted him up by his jaw and slammed him against the wall.  
"Any last words?" I asked.  
He just stuttered and defecated in his pants. I pulled my knife from it's sheath and plunged in up from under his jaw. I pulled my knife back out, blood flowing from the wound like water from a faucet. Milton's mouth opened and closed once silently like a fish, then he was dead. I quickly searched the office for any good intelligence. Nothing useful by itself, but a few things that may serve some good when combined with other data. According to my calculations, I need to get to the engine room and plant my explosives. For some reason, I didn't run across anyone else on my way to the engine room. No sooner had I stepped in the hatch than a mechanic swung a large wrench at my head. He missed, I didn't. I pushed the barrel of my cannon into his stomach and fired. Small pieces of his digestive tract coated the floor, walls, and ceiling behind him. I looked around, I was on a catwalk overlooking the engine room. I gunned down the dozen or so workers present, my '60 making short work of them. I planted one set of charges on the pumps, and another on the propeller shafts. I climbed my way back to the deck. Either I'd killed everyone on board, or they were avoiding me. Now all I had to do was make my escape. There were a pair of jet skies at the stern. I dumped one of the side and jumped down after it. As I sped away from the ship, I hit the detonator. The explosives were well below decks, so the fireballs weren't visible, and the sound was muffled, but the effects were easily visible. Within seconds the ship was already tilted, the stern much lower than the bow. I watched as the ship continued to sink lower in the water, before it vanished completely beneath the waves. Now I have to get back to my apartment. I need to decide who I'm after tomorrow night. 


End file.
